First Contact
by Jeanie205
Summary: Bellamy can't believe his eyes when Clarke Griffin appears out of the forest to save him. As his body begins to heal and they make a plan to save their friends, he finds his feelings about her are the same as ever. He desperately wants to touch her - to make that first contact - but something keeps holding him back. Because what if she doesn't feel the same? Canon verse. Post S4.


As he watched her through eyes half-lidded from exhaustion and dehydration, it felt like he was seeing a ghost. Which wasn't surprising, since she'd been haunting his dreams for more than six years now.

But Clarke Griffin was no ghost. She was real. Flesh and blood. _Alive_.

When he'd first spied her, appearing suddenly out of the tree line like some blonde-haired Artemis, he hadn't been able to believe the evidence of his own eyes. But she was closer now, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face when she spoke.

"I almost didn't recognize you with all that scruff," she hissed softly, her sharp knife sawing at the thick ropes that bound him to the tree. "But Madi said it was you…except you were old now."

Clarke chuckled quietly as she tore away the last of his bonds and helped him stand.

Bellamy staggered, his legs buckling under him after days of disuse, his arms and hands a mass of prickling pins. He stared at her, his mind in turmoil, unsure which of a thousand questions to ask first.

"Madi?" he finally croaked out, his voice rasping and rusty.

"Shh! Don't try to talk," she whispered, lifting a canteen to his cracked lips.

Only a small stream of water had trickled down his throat before Clarke was pulling it away. "Not too much. I don't want you barfing on me." She frowned. "Do you think you can walk?"

He nodded, wincing slightly when that small action induced a pounding in his head that made him gasp. Clarke, keen-eyed as ever, ran a gentle hand across the back of his skull, finally locating the protrusion.

"I'm sorry, Bellamy." Her expression was sympathetic. "You probably have a concussion, but we can't take the time to deal with it. We've got to get somewhere safe."

Safe? Was there anywhere on this planet that was safe? Twice now he'd landed on it, the first time expecting to be met by uninhabited woodlands, the second time, by old friends.

He'd been disappointed both times.

Clarke threw him a wry glance, and Bellamy knew his thoughts must have been mirrored in his face.

"I know," she said, her lips curling up into the smallest of smiles. "Safe is a relative term on planet Earth. But still, it'd be best to leave here now."

They moved through the forest as quickly as possible, stopping every half hour or so while Clarke gave him a scant two minutes to rest. And to trickle a little more water into his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Bellamy," she said finally, after the third such stop. "I know you're in no condition for this hike, but I can't think of anywhere else to go."

"Goddammit, Clarke, stop apologizing," he said impatiently, dragging himself to his feet.

She looked up, her eyes suddenly glassy.

Bellamy was immediately contrite. _What the hell was wrong with him?_

"Fuck! I'm an asshole, Clarke." He reached out as if to touch her, pulling back at the last second before his hand could make contact.

He watched her eyes flicker at the movement, then she shook her head. "No, it's not that. I just…I'd pretty much begun to think…I'd never hear you say my name again."

She smiled then, a real smile this time. One that reached the deep blue of her eyes.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Me, too."

They stared at each other for no more than a heartbeat and then Clarke inhaled sharply.

"We've gotta keep going. We can…talk later."

Bellamy nodded, turning wearily, willing himself to continue to place one foot in front of the other.

During the years they'd been exiled in space, they had all put a lot of time and effort into making sure they stayed in good physical condition. The Earth had been a harsh, unforgiving environment the first time around and they expected her to be even more hostile when they returned. Still, a day without water and a probable concussion had been more than enough to drain Bellamy's reserves.

By the time Clarke finally called a halt, he was running on empty. They slipped inside what appeared to be a large cave, and he immediately dropped to the ground, exhausted.

"Madi," she called out immediately, "we're back. You were right. It _was_ Bellamy."

A girl appeared then, one who could be no more than twelve or thirteen, and Bellamy wanted to ask a million questions at once. But he wasn't sure he had enough strength to draw his next breath, never mind interrogate Clarke.

The girl approached him warily, a tin mug in her hand.

"It's just tea," she said, holding it out to him carefully. "It's what Clarke gives me when I'm hurt. I-I made it for you."

"Thank you, Madi, that was very thoughtful." Clarke's soft approval made Madi smile and brought back to Bellamy a thousand Octavia memories.

"Eat this, too, if you can." Clarke handed him a small piece of dried meat. "Then you can sleep."

Bellamy managed to finish neither food nor drink before his body gave out at last.

It was pitch dark when he awoke, disoriented, his physical need urgent. He rose, immediately remembering where he was, but not necessarily how to navigate his surroundings.

"Where are you going?"

Clarke's quiet voice came out of the darkness.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm still a light sleeper, Bellamy. And I've had to watch out for both of us for more than six years now. Long before our unwelcome visitors arrived. So…why are you awake? Just can't sleep?"

"No. I, uh, I need, um…" He shrugged one shoulder, feeling faintly ridiculous for being so coy about a natural bodily function.

Clarke chuckled softly. "You fell asleep before I could make sure you were orientated. Come on, I'll show you."

When she moved, he realized his eyes had adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out the gold of Clarke's hair as she led him back toward the cave's entrance.

Bellamy stepped out and was immediately swallowed up in the darkness. He was back in under a minute to find that she was still standing there.

"You didn't have to wait, Clarke," he said, amused by her vigilance. "I would have found my way back."

Now that they had left the gloom of the cave's interior, there was enough moonlight to clearly see Clarke's face, even though she was standing several feet away. He could even see the expression in her eyes, which seemed to him to be…unfathomable. For a moment she was silent and unmoving, then finally she heaved a sigh.

"It took you more than six years to find your way back to me, Bellamy, so I suppose I might be forgiven for being just a little afraid of losing sight of you again."

Bellamy exhaled sharply, his hands opening and closing. He desperately wanted to touch her. To assure her that he was really there, that he wasn't going anywhere. But somehow he just couldn't.

"If I'd known you were alive, Clarke…if I'd had even a single fucking clue that you had actually survived praimfaya, I would have moved heaven and Earth…"

He stopped, his voice strangled. He could still hardly believe it, even with her standing right in front of him.

He'd thought about it from time to time, of course. Wondered if she could possibly have made it. But he'd told himself over and over that that was the very definition of wishful thinking. That he had to let her go. Because if he tried to live on that hope, he'd go fucking nuts. So Bellamy had ruthlessly put the idea out of his head until Clarke's survival had become something that was completely beyond the realm of possibility.

And yet. And yet… _all that time she'd been here! Right fucking here_. Was here still. Standing there motionless, staring at him across two feet of moonlight.

Clarke sighed softly, her breath drifting into the night. "I spoke to you every day, Bellamy."

His head snapped up so quickly that he winced again, his injury catching him unawares.

"What do you mean?"

Her shrug was barely there.

"I had a small satellite dish that I carried with me everywhere. It's…I know that kind of stuff is not my thing, but I was…so sure you must have gotten the transmissions."

Bellamy's jaw dropped. "You sent us messages?"

"I sent _you_ messages. Every day. It's what…kept me sane, I think. At least on some days." She eyed him carefully. "But you never…"

He was already shaking his head, grimacing again from the pain but this time not really giving a fuck. "We had so little power, and Raven…" he sighed, not wanting to place blame, certainly not on Raven. "She said we needed it for life support, not for the comms, and besides we knew we wouldn't hear from the bunker. They were too far underground. And there was no one else…"

He broke off suddenly, clenching his fists in frustration. "Shit!"

Clarke nodded, her lips turning up in the same little half-smile she'd given him earlier. "I understand, Bellamy. Raven was right. Life support was the most important thing."

"Look, Clarke, there are so many things…"

"It's the middle of the night. And I can see you're in pain every time you move your head. We should…go back to bed. We'll have plenty of time to sort it all out."

He knew she was right, but the fact that she'd been sending out messages that they might have heard if only they'd made some different decisions drove Bellamy's frustration level into the stratosphere. Not that any of it mattered now. He knew that. He'd learned long ago that regrets were pointless.

He followed Clarke back into the cave, dogging her footsteps in the dark until they reached the area where they'd been sleeping. Where the girl Madi was sleeping still.

"Goodnight, Bellamy," Clarke said, settling back into her blanket.

"'Night, Clarke," he repeated gruffly, pulling around himself the blanket that he just now realized Clarke must have tossed over him as he slept. His mind was racing and he was sure he'd never get back to sleep, but Bellamy's body had other ideas.

XXXXXXXXXX

When he woke again, ribbons of sunlight had found their way into the cave, and his body was stiff from sleeping on the stone floor. But the pounding in his head had receded somewhat.

"He's awake," he heard the girl say. And then Clarke was in front of him, asking how he felt.

"Like I've been run over by the rover," he said wryly.

Clarke grinned. "No chance of that. I'm a pretty good driver."

Bellamy gaped. "You have a rover?"

"Yep. We've got a lot of things. Including a way for you to bathe. Which I think might not be a bad idea after you've had something to eat."

Bellamy smiled ruefully. If he looked and smelled as disgusting as he felt, he must be utterly repulsive to Clarke and Madi. "Good idea."

The bathing spot turned out to be a small natural underground waterfall, located further within the cave's massive interior. He could hear the sound of the water long before he and Clarke ever reached the spot.

"Madi found it. It had been too stormy to go outside for days and she was restless and decided to go exploring. I…remembered your story about the labyrinth and made her bring some twine so she could find her way back."

"Theseus," Bellamy said, smiling. "I hope there are no dangerous creatures lying in wait for me here."

Clarke's lips tipped into a wry smile. "I think most of the dangerous creatures are outside this cave." She frowned then as a new thought hit her. "I never thought…can you find your way back?"

He nodded, his lips twisting into a small smirk. "I can. But if I'm not back by tomorrow, maybe you could send out a search party."

He knew it was a feeble joke; his jokes always were. But they used to bring an equally feeble response from Clarke, that half-smile he knew so well. But not this time. Instead she looked distressed, and he suddenly recalled that she'd already told him how much she feared losing him again.

"Clarke, I'm sorry. That joke was even stupider than usual. I can find my way back just fine."

Again, he felt that strong impulse to reach out to her, this time in apology. But as before, his arm had no sooner lifted than he pulled it back again, his mind awash in uncertainty.

Clarke stared at him for another moment, and then the expected half-smile finally did appear, perhaps just a little more forced than usual. "Your sense of humor is still pretty bad, Bellamy, but even so, I've missed it."

She left him then, armed with a scrap of some kind of soap and an equally threadbare piece of cloth for drying. He stripped quickly and stepped beneath the waterfall before he could think better of it, sputtering and shuddering with the cold.

As he scraped several days worth of filth off himself, then dried and redressed, Bellamy couldn't help pondering the mystery that was Madi. A nightblood, of course. She had to be. And the child had probably survived only because, at some point, Clarke had found her.

Bellamy's natural instinct was to save whoever he could, and that was especially true for children. So he rejoiced at whatever fortunate happenstance had brought the two of them together. But he was even more grateful - and he knew this was a selfish thought, because the child's survival should of course be the most important thing - but still, he was profoundly grateful that Clarke had not had to spend all those years alone.

 _Thank you, Madi._

Feeling cleaner and infinitely better, Bellamy made his way back, with only two false starts before he finally found the right path. He supposed that after six years in space he was going to have relearn how to navigate on solid ground.

When he emerged back into the main room, he was certain he'd surprised a look of relief on Clarke's face. One which she quickly hid.

"Come here, Bellamy," she said, waving him over to sit on a crudely-fashioned bench that had been placed next to an even cruder table.

"Careful with that, Madi," she admonished, as the girl arrived with a bowl of steaming hot water which she deposited on the table in front of him. Clarke placed a small sharp knife and a broken mirror next to the water with a smug smile.

"What's this?" he asked, bewildered.

Clarke blinked. "I…it's for you. So you can shave. I saw you do this a hundred times…um, before… and…and _this_ was always what you needed."

Her voice petered out uncertainly.

Shave. He'd got out of the habit while they were back on the Ark. Maybe he hadn't wanted to look himself in the face every morning. Or maybe…maybe life on the Ark had felt more like a holding pattern than living. And he'd been damned if he'd bother wasting a lot of time grooming himself when his life was…not much of a life at all.

But she was right. He'd always found time to shave his first time on Earth. Felt the better for it. Maybe he should start again.

"I'd kind of got out of the habit of shaving much, but if you think I should…"

Clarke flushed. "It isn't for me to tell you about…something like that. It's too personal. I'll take all this stuff away."

She bent to pick up the bowl of water.

"No, wait!" Again he reached out to touch her, this time to restrain her wrist. And again he failed to make contact, but she left the bowl anyway.

"What do you think? Should I start shaving again regularly?"

Clarke shook her head and her flush deepened. "It's…up to you."

"Okay," he said softly, "let me ask a different question. Would you like me better if I were clean-shaven."

Clarke laughed. "Like you better? I don't think that's the issue. But if what you're really asking is which way I think you _look_ better, then I say…off with the hair!"

Bellamy grinned at her light-hearted response and began to soak his face and beard with the hot water.

"Watch out, that blade is sharp," Clarke warned with a sly smile. "It's the one I use to gut fish,"

The knife stopped halfway to his throat and suddenly they were all laughing.

"Gutting wasn't really what I had in mind," he announced, beginning to scrape at his chin.

To his amusement, Madi crouched beside him, seemingly fascinated by the whole process. Bellamy wondered if she'd ever seen a man shave before.

When he was done, she peered at him closely, as though evaluating the results.

"Yes, it's better," she declared. "You look more like yourself now. But still," she shrugged, "old."

Bellamy laughed and Clarke sighed.

"Uh, Madi doesn't have much tact."

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I doubt there's even a word for tact in the grounder language. I don't think it's an attribute they really prize."

Clarke snorted. "You could be right."

Bellamy turned to Madi then, asking the question he'd wanted an answer to ever since Clarke had appeared in the forest.

"How did you know it was me, Madi? Tied to that tree? And what do you mean I look more like myself now?"

Madi seemed startled, like she hadn't really expected him to address her directly. But then she shrugged and turned to Clarke as though seeking permission. Bellamy thought Clarke might have looked a bit uncomfortable, but still, she gave the girl a quick nod, and Madi scrambled across the room to an area Bellamy had yet to explore.

Bellamy cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Clarke, puzzled by her discomfort, but she just turned away from him, busying herself with some obscure chore. Madi was back in a flash, carrying a book that was clearly more than century old, from some time before the first praimfaya.

"You're in here," she said, laying the book on the table. "Everyone is."

He glanced over at Clarke, but she still had her back to him, so he hefted the book, inspecting the binding and finding it remarkably secure. And surprisingly, the paper was also in good shape, neither torn nor worn away. But when he finally opened the book, he found that the ink had faded nearly completely, transforming what used to be a textbook, or perhaps a novel, into the perfect medium for another use.

He flipped another page, and there, staring back at him, was his own face.

Bellamy couldn't help his small surprised gasp, or the quick look he sent Clarke's way. She'd turned finally, and looked a little embarrassed.

"It's how I kept you all close," she explained. "I have other sketches, on scraps I came across here and there, but that book," her smile told him the memory was a happy one, "that was a find."

Bellamy quickly began to turn the pages, finding one familiar face after another. Raven. Monty. Abby and Kane. And then there were those they'd lost. Lincoln. Jasper. And a man he recognized only vaguely.

"My dad," she said. Her voice was suddenly very close, and he realized that she'd crossed the room and was standing right next to him.

"Every picture has a story that goes with it," Madi offered, turning the pages with such sure fingers that he was certain she had the location of every picture memorized. She'd reached over to flip another page when his hand shot out to stop her.

"Octavia," he breathed, running his fingers across the smooth paper with the same gentle touch he might have used if she were standing right in front of him. "As she was when we landed," he added softly. "Before everything turned to shit."

"Oh, uh…" he glanced at Madi and then back at Clarke, chagrined.

"What?" she asked, perplexed.

"I, uh, suppose I should watch my language around Madi…" His voice trailed off uncertainly.

Madi exploded in laughter. "How well did you know Clarke the last time you were here?"

He smirked. "Pretty well, I think."

"Yeah, well then you should know what comes out of her mouth when she gets mad," Madi grinned.

"Clarke gets mad? That's new," he managed to get out before Clarke dug her elbow into him playfully. And when he turned to look at her, she seemed so happy, so relaxed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Clarke looking so carefree.

At that moment, he felt an almost overwhelming desire to reach around and drag her into his lap. To bury his face in her hair and feel her sigh against his chest.

 _He was sure she couldn't fail to see it in his eyes. The yearning._

But Madi was sitting right there, and besides, he had no idea if Clarke wanted him that close to her. Six years was a hell of a long time. Just because he'd realized he still felt that same intense connection, _whatever_ _the hell it had been,_ didn't mean that she did, too.

So he hesitated, and soon enough the moment passed.

In an instant her face changed, the pure joy fading away as her expression became…opaque. He was afraid she could somehow see inside his head and he desperately wanted to reassure her. _Don't worry, Clarke. I won't bombard you with feelings._ But it seemed better to say nothing at all.

Besides, actions spoke louder than words. Even if they were inactions. He'd just…leave her be.

Madi eyed them both keenly, as if she could feel that the sunny atmosphere had suddenly become a little tense, but then she shrugged and turned back to the book.

"This is your sister, right?" she asked Bellamy.

He nodded. "I haven't seen her in a long time."

"My _nomon_ and _nontu_ are gone. Clarke is my only family now."

Bellamy considered for only a moment before he replied.

"Clarke is my family, too."

She could take that anyway she wanted, he figured. But it was still true. Maybe truer than ever.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was after the evening meal that he brought it up, choosing the few minutes that Madi was out checking their traps.

"We need to make a plan to rescue the others."

"Of course," Clarke nodded. "But you're not ready yet. Even now, I can see your eyes are half-closed and you've barely left that bench all day"

He sighed. "Clarke…"

"You need at least one more day of rest, Bellamy. I don't want you collapsing in the middle of the rescue mission. We can make a plan tomorrow and leave first thing the day after."

He wanted to argue but he knew she was right.

Bellamy supposed that one of the things he'd learned during his six years back on the Ark was how to temper his impulses. He used to have Clarke to help him with that. He even remembered telling her, "I've got you for that." But then suddenly, heartbreakingly, he hadn't had her anymore and he'd had to figure out to do it on his own.

So he'd learned.

He yawned hugely then, and they both laughed.

"Go to bed," she said, smiling.

The next day was much like the one before, but Bellamy could feel that his body was on the mend. Clarke still hovered over him anxiously but she, too, could see that he was better.

"What do you usually do," he asked, "when you don't have a patient to worry about?"

She shrugged. "Whatever comes up. We look for food. Check the perimeters of our green space to see if any more land has regenerated."

"And has it?" he wondered.

"Definitely," she nodded.

"What else?"

"Madi usually has lessons. Suspended now for the duration of your…visit." Clarke chuckled. "She was pretty excited about that. Put you right into her good books."

He smiled at the thought of Clarke as a teacher. "Maybe I can help with the lessons," he offered matter-of-factly.

Clarke nodded, her face a mask. "Maybe you can."

"And your drawings," he reminded her. "When did you work on those?"

"At night, after Madi was sleeping. When I was feeling especially…lonely."

"Is it all right if I look at more of them?"

She shrugged. "If you want to."

 _If he wanted to?_

He grabbed the book from the shelf and began to leaf through it once again. Stopping to smile every time he came across the much-missed Octavia. And so many others he hadn't seen in years.

But as he turned the pages, Bellamy couldn't help but notice just how many were pictures of him. As the jackass he'd been when they first landed, blustering and cocky. She'd drawn him covered with cuts and bruises, leaning against a tree, recovering from the jobi nuts. And from everything else that had befallen them that day.

And there were more. At that first meeting with Lexa's coalition. In the cave under Mount Weather. God, he'd been so happy to see her, happy and relieved.

And so it went. A pictorial history of his sojourn on Earth, as recalled by Clarke Griffin.

Every picture had a story, Madi had said. He wondered what story Clarke had told her about a picture that appeared very near the end the book. A drawing of himself on the day praimfaya hit, the collar of his space suit clearly in evidence.

They'd been discussing oxymorons, he recalled with a chuckle. And then he'd reached out and touched her hair.

He remembered every word of that conversation. Like it was yesterday.

Had that really been the expression on his face? Had he actually regarded her so… blatantly?

He looked up then to find her watching him.

"Oxymorons," he said, tipping the picture in her direction.

"Yes," she agreed, an odd expression on her face. "I guess…that was then."

What the hell did that mean? He'd opened his mouth to ask her when Madi came barreling in, carrying a basket of ripened produce from their garden. Demanding that they divvy it up and eat immediately. Bellamy replaced the sketchbook with a sigh, accepting that he would have to defer his question.

After they ate, he and Clarke sat at the crude table and devised a rescue plan. It was mostly Clarke's plan, one she'd already been turning over in her mind, because she not only knew the territory but had been observing their unwelcome visitors for some time now. Bellamy's contribution was mostly to consider how the rest of the spacekru were likely to react once the fighting began.

With determination, he told her, every single one of them. They hadn't exiled themselves to space for six fucking years just to be enslaved on their return to Earth.

It was a chancy plan, he knew. But they had the element of surprise, and the use of the rover, plus a significant number of weapons. And a bunch of well-trained fighters.

Madi wanted to participate, of course, and Clarke finally told her she could drive the rover, as long as she kept it well away from the fight.

"I need to concentrate on rescuing my friends, Madi, and I won't be able to do that if I'm worrying about you."

Madi gave a quick nod. "And besides, you need me to rush in with the rover at the last minute and drive you all away."

"That, too," Clarke acknowledged with a fond smile.

When Madi left on her daily rounds to check their traps, Bellamy wondered out loud if maybe they ought to leave the girl behind.

Clarke snorted. "I wouldn't put it past her to follow us on foot. I'd rather know where she is."

Bellamy's understood completely, recalling all the ways Octavia had scared the shit out of him when they'd first come to Earth. She'd only been a few years older than Madi, and nowhere near as competent.

"Yeah, I get it."

They sat silently for a moment then, Bellamy trying his damnedest not to think about what might happen to his friends if their plan failed.

"I'm worried about them."

"Of course. I'm worried, too. They're still my friends even if I haven't seen them in all this time."

Bellamy nodded, accepting her statement of concern. Really, he'd taken it for granted before she'd even expressed it.

Clarke glanced down then, apparently discovering a sudden obsession with her hands, studying them carefully as they rubbed against the rough surface of her makeshift table.

"So," she said, her voice deliberate, although when she looked up, her face was nearly devoid of expression, "are there any of them - any of the six, I mean - that you're… _particularly_ worried about?"

Bellamy frowned. "Particularly? I'm not sure. They can all handle themselves. There wasn't much to do so we spent a lot of time honing our combat skills. Of course," he had a sudden insight that maybe this was what she was really asking, "Raven still has limited use of her leg. And Monty's hands never healed 100% after he burned them. And then, Emori," Bellamy grinned, recalling his feisty friend, "yeah, her left hand isn't good for much. But I'm pretty sure if it was necessary she wouldn't hesitate to slit your throat with the right one."

Clarke's brows drew together slightly, but otherwise her expression didn't change. "I…see. And, uh, what about…Echo?"

Bellamy hooted. "Echo can take care of herself. I'd be more afraid of her getting into trouble out of sheer obstinacy, although she's not as bad as she used to be. Same with Murphy. He has damn good survival skills but he can lose control of his temper." He sighed. "I hope Harper's with them. She's sensible, can usually keep them all on the right track."

She stared at him for a moment longer, and then asked casually, "Are she and Monty still…um… together?"

"Together?" He frowned, unsure how to explain how it had been. "Yes…and no. I think they care about each other more than anyone else, but that kind of thing was pretty…fluid…up there."

"Fluid."

She repeated the word not as a question, but almost like she was trying it out in her mouth. Seeing how it fit.

He was afraid he hadn't made himself clear. He wasn't sure he could.

"It was six years, Clarke, and there were only seven of us. The most important thing was to take care of each other. Sometimes that meant getting…physical."

She flushed, ducking her head. "Never mind. That's…it's none of my business."

Bellamy frowned, surprised. The Clarke he'd known had never been concerned about things like that. Could she really have changed so much?

But then she raised her head and squared her shoulders, and a new determination seemed to light her eyes.

She took a deep breath.

"So, is there one of the six of them that _you_ …care about more than the others?"

This time her question was more direct, and it suddenly occurred to him exactly what she was asking.

"Are you asking if I have a…a permanent lover? A…partner?"

Clarke's flush deepened and she rose abruptly from the table.

"I was right the first time," she said. "It's none of my business."

She began to walk rapidly toward the rear of the cave, but Bellamy scrambled to his feet, his longer legs catching up with her in two strides. He reached out, and this time he didn't pull back. This time he grabbed onto her arm, swinging her around to face him.

"Why would you want to know that?" he said, his breath catching at the implications of her asking such a question.

Clarke looked mortified, but she met his eyes steadily. For a moment she said nothing, but then it suddenly burst out of her.

"Because since I found you, you've been so damned careful about not touching me," she said, looking down at his hand on her arm, "until now. And I thought…maybe…"

Bellamy dropped his hand from her arm, reaching up instead with both arms to grasp her shoulders.

"You thought…what exactly?"

Clarke sighed, and when she spoke her voice was low, her eyes downcast, her whole demeanor laced with embarrassment. "I thought maybe you…had someone and you didn't want to give me the…the wrong idea. Any…false hope," she finished with remarkable candor, her voice trailing off to a whisper.

Bellamy felt elation surge through him as he reached out to lift her chin. So he could look her in the eye when he answered that question.

"There's no one like that. There's never been anyone special in the way you mean." He took a breath, then plunged ahead. "And the only reason I've barely touched you, Clarke, is that I didn't want to overwhelm you with exactly how much I _wanted_ to touch you."

Clarke gaped at him but he could see the beginnings of a smile.

"But now - that is, if it's okay with you - I'm going to do what I've been wanting to do for two days. I'm going to hug you."

And with that, his arms came up to wrap around her shoulders, and he pulled her into his body. She melted against him and the relief he felt was immediate.

"Oh, thank god," she murmured, locking her arms tightly around his waist and tucking her head under his chin.

Bellamy could feel his pulse thrumming through his body, and she was pressed so close, he knew she couldn't help but hear the hammering of his heart. He thought she might pull away after a time, but she didn't. Instead, Clarke seemed to settle in like she was going to stay in his arms forever.

After a while, his breathing became ragged and he knew it was a near certainty that his body would soon begin to react to her nearness in other ways. But still, he couldn't bear to let her go.

"Nothing and no one has ever meant as much to me as you do," he murmured into her hair. "Not even close."

She looked up then, and he could see that her eyes were glassy. He sure as hell hoped they were tears of joy.

"Bellamy," she said, and when he heard the huskiness in her voice, he stopped trying to keep himself in check. She pulled his head down, and when her lips touched his it was like a thousand volts sparking through his body.

 _Oh, god, oh, god!_

He deepened the kiss immediately, and Clarke began to move as though she couldn't help herself. They twisted against each other, arms caressing more and more tightly, hands stroking and squeezing. The kiss had become furious and was rapidly becoming wanton.

It was a testament to how utterly lost in each other they were that they never heard Madi until she was almost upon them, calling out from the cave's entrance.

They sprang apart immediately. Guiltily.

"Good news, Clarke, all the traps were full…"

She stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing.

Shit! Bellamy wondered how he could have let himself get so carried away when he knew Madi could walk in on them any second.

He saw the glint in her eye just before she spoke.

"What's going on?" Madi asked, direct as ever.

"Nothing," Clarke said, shaking her head but not quite meeting the girl's eyes.

Madi smirked. "Right. I'm going to start skinning these, Clarke. After we eat," she added, the smirk growing rapidly into a grin, "I think I might go to sleep a little early. In case there is more _nothing_ happening."

Bellamy couldn't help the guffaw that escaped his lips. There were certainly no flies on Madi. She and Clarke made quite a pair.

Clarke grinned at him and stroked her fingers across his palm. When she whispered, "Later," he took that as a promise.

Bellamy was nearly thirty years old, but he still felt like a guilty kid when, much later, they grabbed a couple of blankets and stepped outside, moving down the path and leaving the sleeping Madi behind. He was determined that what Clarke's eyes had been promising all evening wasn't going to happen anywhere near a sleeping kid, because sleeping kids could wake up.

"This is far enough," she said, laying her blanket down and sinking onto it. She tugged at his hand until he dropped down to join her.

"Won't she wonder if she wakes and we're not there?" Bellamy asked, unable to throw off the mantle of care even when he was about to get his heart's desire.

Clarke laughed, pulling off her shirt and lying across the blanket. "I'm pretty damn sure she'll figure it out."

And he suddenly couldn't wait a second longer. He stretched out beside her, pulling her close, and soon they were kissing and caressing, picking up where they'd left off earlier. But this time there would be no interruptions.

Since Clarke had miraculously reappeared in his life - had it really been only two days ago? - Bellamy had sometimes felt like he were living in a dream. Like the ones he'd had on the Ark when his grief over Clarke had seemed like it would never pass.

But when he slipped inside her, and she moaned in response, that's when he was absolutely certain it was all really happening. Because no dream had ever made him feel this way. Or ever could.

When he was inside Clarke, his mind quieted, his body rejoiced, and his life just made sense.

Much, much later, when they were momentarily sated, and he was watching the play of moonlight across her beautiful body, Bellamy wondered aloud how Clarke could ever have thought he didn't want to touch her.

"That picture you drew of me on our last day together. If I really looked at you like…that, you must have known how I felt about you."

As she reached up to trace a finger along his jaw, Clarke smiled the softest smile he'd ever seen on her lips.

"I hoped," she said. "I had that picture of you in my mind's eye for so long, and then finally I put it down on paper. So when you came back…I hoped." She shrugged. "But I could have been wrong. It was six years ago and I might have remembered it all wrong."

"And now?" he asked, smiling down at her. "What do you see in my face now?"

Her gaze was soft. "I see that I wasn't wrong."

Bellamy wanted to kiss her again, but he was pretty sure he knew where that would lead.

"I think," he said reluctantly, "we should get some sleep. Tomorrow is gonna be a tough day."

"Yeah, I know," she said quietly, her lips twisting in disappointment. "But you were lost to me and now you're not. I just want to enjoy it."

"We'll have lots of other nights like this," he said softly. "I promise you. Because I don't care what else happens, Clarke, we're never getting separated again."

That was a promise Bellamy was making to himself. One he intended to keep.


End file.
